The Swedes and Dutch had neighbor forts
And lived in peace surprising,
Till Bully Rising looked for torts
His self-esteem arising—
Rising!
Quoth he: “These Dutch do hold our ports,
Their style is worse than pizing,
I'll show some snorts, I'll bust their courts,
Sure as my name is Rising!”

Pete Stuyvesant lived on Oyster Bay,
Engaged in snuff and clamming;
He thought the Swedes were good fair play,
The Dutch plain Amsterdamming,
Damn-ing!
A courier came. “There's hell to play,
The Goths have been a lamming,
And sneaked your t'other leg away,
And downed your flag, a'dramming—
Flim-flamming!”

While Peter got his carvels up
And felt his dander rising,
The Swede he slipped his belly crup
And did great patronizing.
He, pinted every office pup,
He sold squaw rights from Hoor Kill up,
He taxed the advertising—
Says he: “I'll overflow my cup
And hear no more advising”—
(Yeast rising.)

Till one day fore New Castle came
Three ships with Du Pont powder;
They fired broadsides full of flame.
But Peter's cuss was louder—
(O, chowder!)

They disembarked, their cannon parked,
Than Rising they were prouder,
And Peter's teeth were out of sheath,
His moustache rowdy-rowder,
“The whole State-General are ye,
O, coward! O, cowarder!”

They put Sir Rising up for sale,
To Barbadoes they sold him.
He picked the hemp within the jail,
He hoed tobacco big as kale,
Swedeland no more enrolled him,
To hold him;
His bandy legs parenthesized,
His Punch's paunch despised him;
Quoth he: “How am I cathechized
And down when I was rising—